


Anger

by Causa



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-25 00:33:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Causa/pseuds/Causa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seeng the woman stirred up something low and angry inside you, something that jolted through you and made the hairs on your body prick up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anger

Seeing the woman stirred up something low and angry inside you, something that jolted through you and made the hairs on your body prick up. 

_She has information_ , you think, and so you know it is important to be as gentle as possible, to get her receptive and trusting and loose-lipped—or at least to have her aggression lowered, as you has never been good at interrogation. That was Rose's job. 

So you try to be like Rose, patient-sounding and hushed. But of course, your behavior is pitiful mimicry. You do not care about this foreign, feckless gem like Rose would, so soon you let your anger—something you have not felt in _so long_ —speak instead. 

It's not only the way the green gem speaks to Garnet that bothers you; it's the way she speaks to you. You haven't been spoken to like that in—no, no, no. 

You remember Rose's smile, her teeth glossy and her glistening eyes crinkling themselves up. 

"You're _my_ Pearl." 

You never want to go back to a time when you weren't hers. Which is, perhaps, why you acted so desperately—you saw yourself, cringed at yourself, but couldn't stop. And she would not admonish you. And you flung yourself into anything you could because everything was an opportunity to show your gratitude, to show that you were worthy, that you should be at her side always. You were, she decided you were, until—Greg. Even then, you were still with her. And you have Steven, now, which you ought to be happy about because he is somehow as warm and bright as she is. But he is ignorant. And the glimmer in his eyes when he says the green gem's name disgusts you so much that you can't look at him. He has no idea what she is—how could he? You never want him to know. She will tell him eventually—because Homeworld's pride infects like a virus that must be spread—even by you. You look at Earth and its crawl to progress, the clumsiness intrinsic to its dominant race, and you think sometimes how much you want to go back to the clean, shining spaces and see the technology that has advanced unfathomably far since you've last been there. Then you remember what it was like before Rose and you shudder. 

But how different is it on Earth, really? You were more useful under Rose than you ever were without her; she inspired in you the highest focus, the greatest motivation—so you followed her here—what else would you do? But without Rose—are things different here? Garnet and Amethyst are the superior warriors, felling most of humanity's dangers while you stumble along with sword and spear, trying and failing to gain that swell in the chest that once rose up when you pierced through the enemy in the name of your leader—for the thought of the embrace she would later give you, for the smile she would bless you with in thanks. You so often destroy the strength of the team with your weakness. You make Garnet split up. You make Amethyst cry. You make Steven doubt himself. 

You know that failure is your birthright. But you could escape the constant reminders of it on Earth and the distractions it gifts to you—when you're telling the humans to stand back, stabbing a once-beautiful monster, showing Connie how to do what matters, making sure Steven is safe, you don't think about yourself. 

But now she is here, reminding you of what you used to be and what you still are. Little has changed; the worth Rose instilled in you causes you to bristle with indignation when she shoos you away like a pest, to narrow your eyes at her tone, to think _how do you dare I have millennia on you, millennia of experience in war and terror and resource that you will never have because you are young and foolish and think you are not because that's how gems like you are_ and it all comes across on your face; you can tell by the look on Steven's. 

But Rose isn't here now, not here to tell you that your anger is justified, that your response isn't just bravado that comes from being a spoiled pet of the infinitely benevolent woman whose service you only happened to come into. 

So when you are alone and you gather your thoughts, you think what you always have, what you know to be true: that under the right influences you can be good and possibly even useful, but at your base state, you are flawed, and there is no way to change that.


End file.
